The Billionaires bargain

The elevator doors slid softly open, and Rose Voss entered the top room, her heart pounding.

The far wall's floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sweeping view of Los Angeles, with sparkling lights mocking her grief. Behind her, the doors closed, sealing her fate.

Julius Pitts stood behind a large mahogany desk, his stance tight and his hard gaze fixed on her. He donned a tight midnight blue suit that exuded strength and authority. A single ray of sunshine illuminated the silver cufflinks on his spotless white shirt, making them sparkle like little moons. He didn't get up to greet her; instead, he pointed to the soft leather chair opposite him.

Rose gulped. The chair was more appropriate for a gallery than a pleasant environment. Despite the beautiful couch, it felt really cold. She sat, adjusting the length of her light-grey dress, her one foray into elegance among the chaos of the previous week.

"Ms. Voss," he said, his voice low and calm. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."

She maintained a pleasant face. "Mr. Pitts."

His lips curled slightly as if amused. "Please, call me Julius. "We've already established that formality is unnecessary." He moved a sleek black folder across the desk. "This is the contract."

Rose's fingers shook as she raised the folder. Inside, the paperwork was neatly organized in columns, with clauses describing roles, responsibilities, and consequences. A signature line was at the bottom of the last page, waiting for her name.

She briefly closed her eyes, recalling her brother Harris's whispered confession in the hospital hallway. Overdraft accounts, hazardous loans, and a vicious lender intent on putting him in jail. She had no option.

"I understand," she said, despite her instincts telling her differently.

"Good." Julius leaned back and folded his hands on the desk. "Let me make it clear this is completely transactional. You marry me. You waive all claims to my assets that exceed the amount given.

You follow the rules. I set no exceptions. In exchange, I will pay Harris's complete fees, and you will never see that sleazy lender again.

Rose's throat clenched. "And the allowance?"

His steely glare examined her. "A nice monthly stipend. Enough for your everyday necessities, clothing, food, and perhaps a little apartment if you choose to live alone."

Her pulse accelerated. "Separate living quarters?"

He tilted his head. "I don't want to force you into my bed." "This is a marriage of convenience."

Convenience?. The words were inscribed over her heart.

She looked out the window at the beautiful city below. She entered into a contract marriage with someone she hardly knew in order to rescue someone she loved beyond all else.

"Why me?" she said, barely above a whisper.

Julius lifted an eyebrow. "Your talent."

She blinked. "My talent?"

His eyes narrowed. "I reviewed your résumé. Juilliard graduate. A talented violinist with a bright career. Before you interfere with your brother, I need a lady who can slip into my life without attracting unwanted attention. "You fit the bill."

She looked at him, puzzled and offended in equal measure. "I'm not... an accessory."

"Of course not," he said gently. "However, looks matter. In my circles, marriage is a sign of stability: "Your background is upper-middle-class, no scandals will benefit both of us."

Her breath caught. "You don't see me as a person."

He looked at her. "I see someone prepared to sacrifice for her family. That demonstrates your passion and devotion, which I admire.

Rose held her hands in her lap. "And... what if I refuse?"

He leaned forward, his blue-green eyes cold as ice. "Then your brother goes to prison. I resell the debt to someone with less sympathy.

The words sounded like steel weights. She imagined Harris behind bars, his painful expression, and the sorrow he already felt.

"I'll do it," she said.

Julius smiled and nodded enthusiastically. He shoved the paper at her. "Sign here."

Her pen hesitated on the paper. These phrases encapsulated her whole future, including her independence, creativity, and emotions.

She remembered her violin, which had been sitting in her apartment unused for a few days. The amber instrument seemed substantial and distant, like a memory passing through her hands.

She remembered how easily music flowed from her spirit in the past. Will it survive this transaction?

Her pen shook as she scribbled her name down the line.

Click.

Julius took note of the date and slipped the pen back. He reached behind him for a glass decanter and poured crimson wine into two crystal tumblers. He offered her one.

She looked at the drink with horror. "Is that necessary?"

He lifted his glass. "To your brother's freedom."

She accepted the toast, but the bitter taste in her tongue was caused by something other than the wine. They drank.

Silence spread, thick and charged. The weight of her choice rested on her shoulders.

Julius finally cleared his throat. "Welcome to the Pitts family, Ms. Voss."

Her stomach lurched. "I'm not"

He silenced her with one word. "Rose."

She met his gaze. The ice had thawed just enough to reveal a hint of remorse. Loneliness? Guilt?

Then his phone vibrated. He looked at the screen. A single brow crinkled. "Change of plans. "We leave in an hour for the estate."

Rose froze. "Estate?"

"Pacific Palisades." He leaned back. "You will gather your valuables. "I will join you with my driver."

She had registered, but she still didn't understand. She had no dress suited for a billionaire's wedding, no understanding of his society, and just shards of a life she didn't want to live.

"I need more time."

Julius's eyes clenched. "Time is a luxury you no longer have."

Her heart pounded. She had sacrificed everything for her brother, but now she was struggling with her decision.

She stood to go, taking her handbag and the black folder containing her new life. Her legs felt like lead.

The hallway extended endlessly and sweetly. She breathed deeply, attempting to stabilize herself. The door slammed shut behind her. Rose realized there was no going back.

A little ping from her handbag startled her, a text from her closest friend in New York, asking whether she was okay. She rejected it. There was no one she could tell.

As she approached the end of the corridor, an image of the estate sprang in her mind, white-pillared gates, rolling lawns, and the promise of solitude. A gilded cage.

She paused, her reflection in the shining elevator doors. For the first time, she recognized herself clearly not as a violinist or a sister, but as a bride in name only. Her cheeks were pale, and her eyes were big.

The doors slid open. The driver bowed as she walked inside.

The shuttle zipped by, transporting her away from all she knew.

And in the backseat, the black contract sat heavily on her lap, its silver-embossed cover reflecting in the streetlights an unbreakable promise.

She closed her eyes and cradled the folder at her breast.

Some offerings need more than you are willing to spend.

A tap on the glass startled her. The driver cast an emotionless eye forward.

She looked up and saw a tall, well-dressed lady holding a camera on the curb, her silhouette enhanced by the streetlamp's halo.

Her lips parted in a quiet gasp as the flash went off.

The car sped away.

Rose understood she was part of a story, not just a contract.